


Bateleur

by castironbaku



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, F/M, Hide Week 2017, M/M, Multi, Pirates, Tags to be added later on, give him all the love this week, hidekane, it's basically everyone x Hide, touhide - Freeform, touhidekane, tsukihide - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-09 09:09:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11101395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castironbaku/pseuds/castironbaku
Summary: The Night Circus is an enigma that none have been able to understand. It appears, entertains, then vanishes, and all who have witnessed what lies within have never come out the same. Hide is but one of its various centerpieces, playing the role of a charismatic magician. He soon comes to realize that some roles come with a steep price to pay.-Written for Hide Week 2017!





	1. truth of a coin

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: 永 eternity // forever
> 
>  
> 
> [please consider commissioning me!](http://www.cast-iron-baku.tumblr.com/comm)

_The circus arrives without warning._

* * *

He was barely seven when his memories began at their clearest and it could be said that none of the earliest ones were very pleasant. His first memory alone was grim enough to ruin many a dinner party. He preferred not to dredge it up, but it was inevitable that he would return to it, because then he could disillusion himself when days passed that were so casual it was nearly cruel. Now things appear so bleak as to destroy his vision of a peaceful eternity in his new home, with his new family.

And so he would occasionally remember that night, so black it was like the heavens had turned its back on him. He remembered, with disturbing clarity, the rough, callused palms on his bare shoulders shoving him forward. He could still feel his old shoes slipping and sliding beneath him on the sea-salted, lantern-lit cobblestones. The smell of fish and sweat, cold sea spray and beer, jostled together in the air like the crowd around him. There was a night bazaar going on along the dock. Merchants, having unloaded their wares from their ships, were shouting to be heard over the din. People were everywhere he turned. The breeze was nonexistent. Everything was sticky with heat and words travelled from mouth to ear and crawled all over your skin.

“Move,” said the voice behind him, rough with a dozen nights’ of absinthe and insomnia. The voice expected obedience and reminded him of the countless times he had not obeyed quickly enough. He scrambled forward, pushing into the crowd and feeling inexplicably like a camel being shoved through the eye of a needle. He squeezed past men and women clamoring to see what they could spend their money on. Crushed from all sides, he soldiered forward, never looking behind him.

The crowd began to peter out where the bazaar itself ended, just a few yards away from the wooden docks. Here it was darker and quieter, and the sea breeze was prevalent. He found himself inhaling deeply, marveling at the sheer difference between standing here and standing in the midst of a crush of people shouting and sweating underneath their frilly clothes. He wondered how they could even endure the suffocation for more than a minute when they could simply come out here and breathe and everything would be so much the better. Silly adults.

Then he was shoved forward again and the time to enjoy himself was over. He moved clumsily in the night, startling one or two cats slinking around nearby. There, in the shadows, beneath the carved figurehead of a siren at the prow of a moored ship, stood a man with his arms crossed. His eyes were impatient slits and his clothes bespoke an affluent background. When he spoke however, his tone was completely pleasant.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, sir…?”

“Names are unimportant,” said the gruff voice.

The man raised his eyebrows but made no comment. Then his gaze fell upon The Boy for the first time. “This must be him.”

“Yes.” The Boy was nudged rather sharply in between his shoulder blades. “Show him.”

It was undeniable what The Boy was being asked to show. He fished out a coin from his pocket and closed his fingers around it. Then opened them to reveal that the coin had vanished from his palm. The man watching frowned.

“I hope for your sake that you didn’t bring me here to witness a few parlor tricks,” he said, a sharp edge to his tone.

“Hold out your hand,” the voice ordered.

A muscle on the man’s jaw twitched and it was clear that his patience was being tested. But he held out his hand, palm up. The Boy placed his hand over it, and let the coin wink back into existence between their palms. He held up his hands and let the man study the coin with a nearly emotionless stare. He also glanced at The Boy, noting his bare arms.

“Alright, how much would you like for him?” he asked after a few minutes of scrutinizing The Boy and the coin in his hand. 

“One hundred pieces.”

“Rather steep, for parlor tricks.”

“ _Parlor tricks_. I think we’ve shown you enough to prove—”

“Fifty or none.”

The temperature seemed to rise despite the proximity of the sea and the absence of the sun. The man had a calm demeanor, despite being pushed to the edge of his patience earlier, as he leveled his gaze at the voice behind The Boy. For a long, long moment, nobody spoke and it seemed as though the deal would never be brokered—though of course, The Boy didn’t really understand the repercussions of such a deal. All he knew was that he stood between two of possibly the most dangerous people in his world.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. The Boy was pushed forward with a roughness that hardly surprised him. He stumbled a few steps, then another hand steadied him with a firm grip on his upper arm. There was the sound of coins jingling together inside a small sack cloth pouch. It was tossed and caught, examined and then pocketed. The Boy looked up and the hand on his arm fell away.

“Follow me,” the man said.

The Boy followed him. They moved past the ships that resembled hulking beasts in the blackness of night. The man walked with a bit of a limp, The Boy noticed. He felt the urge to look back, but he ignored it. Somehow, he knew that the voice behind him would never speak to him again. 

They rounded a corner and suddenly they were looking down an alleyway that opened up to the busy thoroughfare of the night bazaar. A wooden sign indicating the entrance to an inn hung over a grimy old door set into one side of the alley. The man knocked on it and when it swung open, he beckoned The Boy over before ducking inside.

The familiar smell ofalcohol assaulted him, alongside the smells of cooked meat, stale bread, and sea salt caught in the dry wood holding up the upper floors. There were about a dozen patrons milling about in groups by the few windows open to the docks or near the bar where the innkeeper returned after unlatching the door for the man and The Boy.

A few minutes later, they found themselves seated at the bar with plates of breads and meats being placed before them. The Boy stared blankly at the meal, until the man elbowed him a little in the arm.

“Eat,” he said. “You’re thinner than a twig. Did he feed you at all in the past week?”

The Boy didn’t answer, but obeyed the order to eat. He picked up the bread and tore it in half, dropped a shred of meat in between and bit into it. He chewed slowly and soundlessly. 

“My name is Marude,” the man said and after waiting in vain for a response, continued, “Itsuki Marude. You might know me as Papilio.”

The Boy did not know him as Papilio, or by any other name. He ate until there was no more food on his plate. Perhaps Marude was waiting for The Boy to recognize him or to convey genuine surprise. When he elicited neither reaction, he pushed his plate away and nodded in thanks to the innkeeper. The Boy followed him up the stairs and into the third door on the left. Waiting for them were two twin beds and an unlit fireplace. It was a luxurious space, much larger than The Boy had ever seen for a bedroom.

“You like this?” Marude asked him. Immediately, whatever wonder he felt was quashed by the reality of the present. He made no response and his gaze followed Marude as the man strolled over to the fireplace. Then, without warning, the logs within began to crackle and pop with heat until flames engulfed the wood and warmth began to permeate the air around The Boy’s thin sleeveless shirt. Marude peeled off his coat, damp with the sea, and placed it over a nearby grille to dry by the fire.

Marude instructed The Boy to bathe first and later, both of them were sitting by the fire in casual loose pants and linen shirts, all owned by Marude and hung from The Boy’s small frame.

“I’m going to take you on a ship,” Marude said, as the fire seemed to snicker softly. “And you will possibly never set foot on this island ever again.” He looked at The Boy, who was staring quietly at his toes, now free of weeks-old dirt and filth. 

“You will never see your father again, and I am going to teach you the things that he never understood. All the things that you can do.”

The Boy raised his eyes at him now. Nobody but the old voice behind him had ever been so forthright about his outlandish abilities. Still, he said nothing.

Marude held up a coin— _his_ coin. Held it between thumb and forefinger, heads side facing The Boy. Engraved into the flat circle of gold was the visage of the king, framed with olive laurels and a tiny dove with wings outspread as it landed upon the laurels. Then, suddenly it was flying. Its minuscule wings beat up and down and it was flying in smooth circles within the confines of the coin metal. The king’s shoulders sagged, and he seemed to sigh, as if relaxing from holding the elegant pose for too long. He caught The Boy’s eye and smiled graciously. The laurels’ leaves fluttered ever so slightly from an unseen breeze.

“Your world is infinitely more vast than you can ever imagine,” Marude told him as he watched the dove nestle into the king’s cupped hands. “Your world is not theirs. Yours is magic.”

“Magic,” The Boy whispered. His first word in weeks, maybe months. His eyes widened at the scratching in his throat, the sensation of sound finally escaping his lips. When he looked up, Marude was smiling, his eyes glinting with pride.

The next morning, Marude and The Boy were boarding a merchant’s galleon bound for the mainland. As the island shrank and vanished over the blue horizon, The Boy pushed off against the railing, the salty wind whipping his golden brown hair up and about his head. Marude stood nearby, watching not the island but the vast empty sea that they were sailing headfirst into.

This was one of The Boy’s fondest memories, but also one of his most terrible ones. It wrought in him an irreparable pain and yet it was the hopeful and lighthearted beginning of his new life. 

 

Years later, The Boy stands watching the sun sink into the treetops of a faraway forest. He flips a coin, up and down, up and down, lost in thought and reminiscences. A hand clasps his shoulder and he turns around.

“Hide,” Touka says, her hair looking beautiful as ever in the dying light of the sunset. “I’ve been looking all over for you. The twins absolutely _massacred_ their set and it’s going to take far more than just me and Yoshimura to fix everything by midnight.”

He raises an eyebrow and his lips quirk into a mischievous grin. “Heads or tails?” he asks.

Touka rolls her eyes. “This isn’t the time—”

“It’s _always_ the time.”

“Fine. Tails.”

The coin is tossed and it flips twice before vanishing. Hide bends down and plucks a flower bud from the ground. He offers it to Touka, who accepts it with pursed lips. The flower blooms between her fingers and the coin falls from within its petals. She catches it with her other hand and it lands squarely on her palm. 

“Tails,” she reports as she hands the coin back.

“Oh really?” Hide says, smirking. “It looked like heads to me.” He smiles, takes the flower from Touka and tucks it in her ear. His fingers trail down her jaw to her chin. “I think someone owes me a kiss.”

For a moment it seems as though he’s swept her off her feet, but then she scowls and pushes him away. She turns away, her ears turning red. “I told you, it’s _not_ the time for your insipid games.”

“And I told you that it’s always time for a bit of fun.” 

She turns to him with a grimace. “This is why all the girls hate you. Go ahead and stay here however long you want, then, and we’ll see how Papilio will deal with you at dinner next week.” Then she stomps away, trampling a few flowers and buds in her path.

He watches her go, like the island of his memories vanishing from view. Looking down, he can see the king chuckling in his coin. He already knows what “Papilio”will do if he doesn’t hurry after Touka and help fix whatever damage the twins have done. He sighs, then calls her name.

 

It’s after the traditional dinner party that the circus holds after a week of performing in one place, that Marude tells Hide to stay. Touka shoots him a look that screams _I told you so_ before she leaves, her rouge dress accentuating her figure so perfectly that he _has_ wonder if she wore it for the sole purpose of tormenting him. 

Marude is thirteen years older than he’d been when they first met on a small trading isle in the tropics. The age doesn’t show on his body, but in his eyes as he gazes at Hide with an unreadable expression. They are in his office, just one room of dozens in this old manor of his. Despite not using the place for a month or so in between dinners, everything remains pristine and dustless. Hide is unaware of any maids who come and go to clean, and he is more or less sure of the true reason behind the spotlessness. 

“Have you been well?” Marude asks him. “We hardly have the time to see each other, ever since…” His voice trails away, leaving the sentence unfinished, but the implication clear. Both of them know exactly what he is talking about.

“Nothing has been too difficult, Father,” Hide replies smilingly. He can’t recall when they’d last spoken casually, nor could he remember when he’d last called Marude his “Papa.” He continues, nevertheless. “I’m grateful to your thorough instruction. I would be unable to perform otherwise.”

Marude nods slowly. “Yes. I’m glad to see you’ve adjusted quickly.” His gaze is faraway, almost thoughtful, when he falls silent for a moment. The lull in conversation is awkward, as expected from a conversation between a father and son who haven’t spoken in nearly half a year since a rather horrific falling-out. When Marude looks at Hide again, his expression has hardened. “I called you here to tell you that we will be having a new addition to our array of performers.”

Hide is unfazed, though he indulges the announcement with the feigned surprise and interest it is due. It is not unusual to have a new performer. In fact what _is_ unusual is that Marude took the painstaking effort of informing him when the matter could have easily been skirted around entirely until the new performer physically arrived. And yet he also knows that there can only be one possible explanation for this private announcement… no, _warning_.

“You have probably guessed it by now, but the man currently sitting on a train on his way here, is the one I told you about six months ago.”

Hide licks his lips and stands up straighter. “What is he called?”

Marude has scarcely opened his mouth to reply when the door unlatches itself and a stranger lets himself in. 

“I am Souta,” he says, tipping his hat to Marude. He produces an apple out of thin air and holds it out to Hide, grinning wickedly. “Pardon the intrusion, but I simply couldn’t restrain myself. It was the perfect stage cue.”

“My name is Hide.” He does not take the apple. Instead he stares warily at the man he is supposed to fight to the death. “Welcome to the Night Circus.”


	2. flintlock heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: 近 near // similar

_Gates Open at Nightfall & Close at Dawn_

_Trespassers Will Be Exsanguinated_

* * *

Souta remains tight-lipped about himself. Hide cannot pry anything meaningful from him outside of a few remarks on how Hide tries a tad too hard to conceal his true self. Eventually Hide comes to dread any interaction he must have with the man, obligatory or otherwise.

Hide is seated on the train with the twins when someone comes by their compartment and knocks on the door and enters. He knows it’s Touka before her face and figure appear. Kuro had said an hour prior that Touka was coming, before going back to an animated discussion with Shiro about how to make a delicious beetle soup.

Touka takes her place next to Hide, across the now snoring twins, and the two of them watch the countryside fly past in silence. Their bodies are a handspan apart, and the distance wears heavily on Hide’s senses. The temptation to reach out to her firmly builds a wall between them that cannot be broached. At some point, he tears his gaze away from the window and looks at her. If he let himself think about it any deeper, he might come to the conclusion that she was waiting for him to look at her all this time. She smiles.

“Hello,” he says, a lump in his throat. It’s unlike him to be at a loss for words, but her smile takes his breath away every time. 

“I hate him too,” she replies, settling back into the velveteen seat. “He told me I would do much better as a whore than as a gymnast.”

“ _What?_ ”

She smiled again, and laughs. “He didn’t say it like _that_ ,” she says. “He was much more pleasant about it.” Tucking a stray hair behind her ear, she lets one hand rest on the seat, fingers curled around the edge loosely. He is mesmerized by every movement and his heart snags on the twinkle in her eye when she notices how nervous he is. “I’m sorry I was rather mean-spirited last week. You can stop avoiding me, I’m not angry anymore.”

He lets out a breath he doesn’t know he’s been holding. “Really? You’re not going to have me thrown off the train if I try and hold your hand?”

“I don’t make promises I can’t keep,” she says and she turns her hand palm-up in silent invitation.

Hide rests his palm against hers, letting their fingers intertwine, and he marvels at the feeling, like it’s the first time he’s ever done this, though he’s already done it at least a dozen times before. With Touka, everything always feels like the first time.

“I hear we’re passing cities along the shore,” she says. “I can’t remember the last time I saw the sea. We’ve always been performing so far inland.”

“The sea is beautiful,” he says, running a thumb from her wrist to the base of her thumb, back and forth in a lazy rhythm despite the turmoil his heart feels at the prospect of being so close to the sea again. “Almost as beautiful as you.”

Touka shoots him a droll look and he laughs, leaning back into the seat. She softens at his amusement and asks, “What was it like, living on an island?”

“Terrible,” he says. “Life without you anywhere is terrible.”

“I’m going to kick you if you don’t answer me seriously,” she says, though she’s suppressing a smile as she does.

“I’m being perfectly serious! It was terrible. I prefer the mainland much more.”

“Why?”

“It’s cooler, for one. And you don’t wake up with salt in your… you know. You don’t eat fish every day. People leave you alone, and you needn’t care about what your neighbor does on the weekends.” He rubs his cheek absentmindedly, as he recalls, against his will, the sticky heat that once used to permeate the air and cling to his skin and plaster his hair to his forehead in his younger days on the island. “It’s exhausting to live in such a small town, cut off from the world with only galleons that come and go to give us news from the outside.”

“Seems to me,” she says, “like you enjoyed living there.”

Hide glances at her, smiling wryly. “Maybe I did,” he says. “But I’m glad Father took me when he did. If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t be the dashing young man sitting next to you now.”

Touka rolls her eyes, typical of her, and laughs through her nose. She leans her head against his shoulder. They sit, once again, in comfortable silence, reveling in each other’s warmth and presence. Both of their gazes fall upon the sleeping twins. Kuro lies with her head on Shiro’s lap while Shiro’s cheek is buried in her hand, her elbow resting against the polished wooden sill. A feeling of longing pools in the pit of Hide’s stomach and he closes his eyes for a minute.

In another life, had he been born without the ability to turn books into mice or keep ice from melting forever, perhaps he might be able to dream of a future with Touka. A golden wedding ring, a home in the city, and children laughing as they play a game of tag or hide-and-seek outside. That is the life he longs for, and the life he can never have with her.

Because his life is tied to the circus now, and his blood is meant to ensure its survival. Souta is the usurper, the one who challenges his will to stay. They must now duel, quietly, behind the velvet curtains, to decide who will take control of the circus and everyone within.

He can vaguely feel Touka’s grip tighten around his hand, but he has already fallen asleep.

 

Word travels fast from town to town, city to city, about the circus that has set up its tents a few miles away from shore and the nearest signs of civilization. Hide buttons his white three-piece suit and shrugs on the jacket. He looks in the mirror and sweeps the hair away from his eyes. He wears his gloves, stark black against his clothes.

Night arrives and the line of people waiting to enter the circus extends to a quarter of a mile. They marvel at its monochrome tents and winding paths. Some wander into the magician’s tent, and are wonderstruck at the way he pulls off his gloves and turns them into black-and-white birds before their very eyes. He conjures a gentle snowfall, and the audience is pleasantly surprised to find that the snowflakes taste of vanilla. He gifts a little girl with an flower he crafts out of the snow. It’s made of ice, she tells her mum excitedly. The magician tells her that it will never ever melt. When the audience leave, they can hardly describe what they saw as anything less than pure magic.

After his second show, Hide decides to take a stroll around the circus. He buys himself a cup of hot chocolate and wanders aimlessly. He drops by Touka’s tent, and catches a glimpse of her on a tight wire, holding her body up effortlessly on one hand. In a superhuman feat of strength and balance, she lowers herself until she is a hairsbreadth away from the wire and pushes off, propelling herself into a backflip. The world seems to slow all around her, and a collective breath is held. 

She lands gracefully on both feet, still perfectly balanced on the tight wire. The audience gasps and cheers and tosses black-and-white roses and shouts her name.

He has to force himself to turn away because he knows that if he stays, he might not leave for the rest of the night. On a whim, he drops by the twins’ tamer show, and has to admit that they are incredibly skilled for their age; they get as many as a dozen monkeys and cockatoos, a tigress, and an elephant to all cooperate in a single performance. He watches until the elephant allows the tigress to climb upon her back before making his way out of the tent.

At half past midnight, he has barely half an hour left before his next show. He chooses one last tent to enter—a tent that he and Marude worked hand in hand to create. From scribblings on paper to detailed models cut and pasted painstakingly with cardboard. Then after proper ritual and research, hard work and many a night slaving away at Marude’s desk and study, their Eden was born.

As Hide walks the dirt path leading up to a pristine white gazebo marking the very center of the tent, the air crackles with energy. Flowers lazily open and close their petals around him, like hundreds of little white and yellow eyes blinking slowly trying to see him more clearly. He knows he is not alone, but he does not know who is here. He feels the center of his body gravitate to the presence almost instantly. His pulse accelerates with every step he takes that brings him closer. His breath seems to catch in his throat. 

The feeling is far from new. Seven years ago, meeting Touka had felt the exact same way. The same crumbling sensation in his bones, the same rush of air leaving his body, the same weakness in his fingers. It is all the same. He is no stranger to any of it. 

And so when he turns the corner and sees the hooded figure, he does not falter. He is about a foot away when he finds himself at the business end of a gleaming cutlass.

“One more step and you won’t be walking out of this tent with two legs,” the stranger says, without so much as turning around, which Hide considers rather rude of him. Then again, thrusting a cutlass in anyone’s face is not usually considered polite in most cities. Hide, however, is well in his element. He raises both hands in an attempt to placate the situation.

“I’m unarmed,” he says.

The cutlass remains where it is.

“I work here. I’m the magician. I have a show in ten minutes. You could come. I’m quite good.” The words come tumbling out indiscriminately and he knows he sounds like a fool. Yet try as he might, he simply cannot think of a better way to get the stranger to stay. Standing one sword’s length away from him is already making Hide’s chest squeeze so painfully, he wants desperately to take a step back. 

The stranger turns to face him, and though the cowl casts shadows upon his face, Hide can see a beautiful creature of a man in front of him. The cutlass is raised higher, its tip pressing against Hide’s chin.

“Show me a trick, then.”

“What?”

“If you really are a magician as you claim you are, perform a trick for me.” 

Hide can smell the metal that threatens to slice open his skin. The stranger’s breathing has not changed. He does not fidget. His eyes, grey and clear as can be, watch Hide with a wariness that he very nearly pities.

Without breaking eye contact, Hide reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out his ever-present coin. For a brief second, he sees the king emblazoned on the coin wink at him knowingly. He raises it up for the stranger to eye level.

“Look and tell me what you see,” Hide instructs, adopting the same tone he uses in his performances. Slow, encouraging, yet somehow distant and cool. He wants to enthrall not to terrify, after all. The stranger narrows his eyes.

“Gold piece. Standard issue of the crown,” he says without pause. 

“Now look again.”

This time, when the stranger squints, he lowers the cutlass—seemingly unconsciously—and he comes closer. Hide then finds himself gazing at the stranger’s face far longer than he should, his eyes tracing a well-defined nose and pink lips against sunburnt skin smeared with dirt and smelling, irrevocably, like the sea.

“It’s me,” the stranger breathes. His brows furrow and he reaches for the coin. “How…?”

“Magic,” Hide says, letting him take the coin and study it, flipping it over and over as if the act would bring all its secrets tumbling out. “I did tell you I’m a magician.”

The stranger gives him a long, strange look before sheathing his cutlass and returning the coin. He throws the cowl back and Hide is treated to the sight of a mop of shaggy black hair that looked like it had been cut by a chronic drunkard. 

“My name is Ken,” the stranger says. “I’d like to watch your show, if you’d allow me the pleasure.”

“So you _can_ be civilized,” Hide says, smiling.

Ken’s glare is like acid. “I take it back. I have no desire to watch you and your tricks.” He attempts to shoulder past Hide.

“Wait!” Hide says hastily, grabbing Ken by his sleeve. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make fun. Please, do come and watch my show.”

Ken proves surprisingly easy to persuade. He says, “Alright.” and lets Hide take the lead. 

The path back to his tent is suddenly different. Somehow, at some near-indiscernible level, the once-familiar winding paths have been altered and Hide feels as though he is walking on nothing at all. It is a weakness in his legs but a strength everywhere else. He has not felt this way since the day he first met Touka and already he can feel the guilt creeping into his conscience.

He holds the tent flap open for Ken to duck inside and he does not follow. He has another way of entering, and it is hardly so mundane as the entrance itself. He lingers for a moment, as if hesitating without knowing the reason why. He closes his eyes, and when he opens them, he’s back in his dressing room, pulling on his white suit jacket.

Awash in lantern light in the midst of a steady stream of circus-goers walking from here to there and there to here, he still cannot forget the look of pure wonder in Ken’s eyes when he saw his own image engraved onto the coin. In them, Hide had seen himself as a child discovering the things that he could do—an undiluted sense of shock and awe, laced with curiosity. It is a look that leaves him shaken to the core. 

He hopes he can see it again, and he envisions it in his head even as the world around him dissipates and he reappears, in a cloud of mist, before his audience.


	3. crossroads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: 英 Hero/wisdom

_There is so much that glows in the circus, from flames to lanterns to stars.  
… I sometimes suspect the entirety of the circus is itself a complex illusion of illumination._

* * *

Hardly a day passes that Hide does not think of Ken, who has been visiting the circus almost nightly for months. By now, though Ken has remained all but silent on the matter, Hide has already guessed his true identity. It is hardly anything that requires a detective’s sharp intellect. With a cutlass, a flintlock pistol, sand in his hair, dirt (occasionally blood) on his cheeks, and the undeniable smell of the sea on his clothes, Ken is not exactly making a secret of it.

And yet there are more pressing matters, such as Souta’s increasing popularity and Touka’s proportionately increasing ire towards Souta. 

A year and a half ago, Marude had come clean, unveiling the truth of the circus to Hide. That there were two forces, within and without, that fought for its possession every generation. For to hold the circus is to hold near-eternal youth and power. Two bloodlines, of whom the ancestors laid claim upon the creation of the circus, are the only ones that can hold sway upon it. Marude, having no heir, had named Hide his son, and by doing so, had permanently sealed his fate.

Hide remembers being furious and he remembers, with no small amount of shame, his unprovoked outburst. He and Marude hadn’t been able to talk normally ever since. Some nights, before he lays down on his cot to sleep, he wishes that things had gone differently. The words he said, the things he did, he wishes he’d known better. He wishes that he had acted with grace and maturity, like any man of twenty years would have done. And yet he had been childish. Petty. He had treated his father with disgrace despite everything Marude had done for him.

When he finally confesses this to Touka, she grasps his hand tightly and tells him, “People only regret things because we haven’t invented a way to go back in time and warn ourselves that we’re about to make a huge mistake.”

They are lying in a field of tall grass, looking up at a field of stars, and he knows she is looking at him but he cannot look back at her, because there is the guilt gnawing away at him, and he still does not know what to do with it. How can a man love another, when his own beloved is lying right next to him, whispering words of encouragement and comfort? It is madness.

“You can’t change the past,” Touka continues. “But the future is far from writ in stone. You can still be a better man than you were that night, or any night before and after. Every morning, when you wake, you are already a better man than you were yesterday, because that’s who you are. I know you. You have never once let the past define you.” 

“Touka,” he says, and when he says her name, his heart is aglow with love. “Thank you.” He leans toward her and presses his lips to her temple. He sighs and drops back down onto the grass, one arm around Touka and the other on his stomach. He has not felt this lighthearted in weeks. They lay together and fall asleep under the stars until the sky is shot through with the colors of dawn and sunrise. 

 

Later Hide knocks on Marude’s door. It unlatches and swings open and now the two of them are trapped together, yet again, in the confines of a suffocatingly awkward atmosphere. Hide knows from the look on his father’s face that the suffering is mutual. He decides that it is time to take Touka’s nugget of wisdom and share it, because Marude seems almost, if not at all, afraid of bridging the growing chasm between them.

“Father,” he ventures, hesitantly, onto the thin ice, “would you like to have a drink with me tonight?” He smiles, and puts all of his sincerity into the smile.

And all at once, the wrinkles seem to vanish from Marude’s face. His shoulders fall and he walks to Hide, and gathers him into a tight embrace. “I would love to have a drink with you, Hide,” Marude says. “I would absolutely love to.”

They leave for Marude’s favorite pub, and share several pints of beer with a multitude of stories and jokes and circus gossip. It is as if the dam has been broken utterly, and all the words they had wanted to say are spilling out into their glass mugs, and warming their bodies from the inside out. They laugh and neither of them want the night to end, because they fear that once morning comes, they will return to being more like strangers than family.

But Hide believes that they can be the father and son that they truly are, and with every story they share with each other, he _knows_ that they can heal this wound together.

“You know I…” Marude says slowly, frowning at his half-empty mug of beer, though from his glassy gaze, Hide can tell he is more inebriated than angry. “I sometimes wish I hadn’t… taken you from your real father. When… Before, when I first came to your island, I hadn’t been worried about anyone but myself. With what happened to Chika and I…” He shakes his head solemnly and downs another gulp. “I was dead inside. I had no purpose, except to continue on with the bloodline pact… I had to find you, or someone like you. So that I could… retire, from this life.”

Hide can feel his his grip on his own mug tightening. “Why didn’t you, when you found me? You had no reason to… to stay.”

“Well, I’d promised to teach you,” Marude says, the vestiges of a smile tinging his expression. “And, of course, your father hadn’t mentioned in his letters just how maltreated you’d been… I suppose I wanted to protect you, small and weak as you were back then… You know firsthand that I wasn’t at all prepared to be a father.”

“You certainly weren’t the best.”

He laughs. “I hope you’re not only saying that because I never let you join me in the clubs when you were younger.”

“Maybe I am, maybe I’m not.”

“Cruel boy, where did you learn your manners?”

“Where do you think?”

Marude laughs out his nose and wags a finger at Hide. “Your silver tongue is what gets you in trouble all the time, Hide,” he says. “But it’s true that I was far from a role model… Even now I wonder how you might’ve grown up if I’d taken a wife.” He rubs his chin. “Though I would never feel inclined to court her. Any woman would be infuriated with me, I’m sure. Would you pass me another pint, my boy?”

Hide grins and pours him another mug. “You’re exaggerating now, Father. You’re quite popular with the ladies of the circus.”

Marude snorts. “I doubt they’d be so quick to flatter me if I weren’t giving them the gold they need for their dresses and face paint.”

“Well, you might be right there.”

They both laugh and the rest of the conversation is full of high-spirited banter and jokes and teasing the likes of which one can only share with their father. When Hide stumbles into his cot that night, he recalls everything with a fondness that can last decades. He treasures, for that moment, that night, and every day after, having a father that he loves, and who loves him.

* * *

According to the rules of old, Marude is not allowed to help Hide in his years-long duel with Souta. Any hints he wishes to give will be taken from his memory and he is usually left in a very disorienting position of having words to say but never really knowing what they are. Hide understands by now that this is his fight and his fight alone.

The duel itself is not necessarily combative. The two can simply wait it out, until one of them is unable to continue. This is the method Hide prefers, and it seems that Souta is also predisposed to avoid an outright battle. This is unless, of course, he is only biding his time for a proper challenge.

Hide sighs into his cup of tea and watches the surface of it ripple with his breath. Outside the rainfall becomes almost deafening and he worries Ken will not be able to make it in this weather. That is when, almost on cue, the door to the café swung open with a soft tinkling of the bell attached to it. When Ken steps in and hands off his waterlogged hat and coat to the nearest server, Hide can feel his cheeks flush. 

He’s dressed in typical city fashion, perhaps in an effort to disguise himself, with a simple yet well-fitting black frock coat over long trousers and dress shoes. Hide knows that he must be overreacting—almost every other man on the street is dressed similarly, after all. Perhaps it is Ken’s upper body, which is telltale of years spent mastering the sword. Or perhaps it is the way he has brushed his hair and tied it back into a neat ponytail. Or maybe it is the way he walks, with a purpose and no simple air of confidence in his posture.

“Good afternoon,” he says as he approaches Hide and takes his seat across the small table.

“No need to be so polite, Ken,” Hide says, grinning and flagging down a waitress with a wave of his hand. She arrives at their table promptly and leaves with Hide’s order of another pot of tea.

“Will you be coming back soon?” Ken asks after the waitress has left them alone. 

Hide flashes him an impish smile over the rim of his cup. “Do you miss me?”

Ken blushes, catching him by complete surprise, and avoids his gaze. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost indiscernible. “I do.”

“Oh.”

He doesn’t know what else to say. Not for the first time since meeting Ken, he is at a loss for words. Ken has always been forthright with Hide. He never feels the need to pretend, to conceal his emotions. This, to Hide, is akin to a breath of fresh air. The fate of the circus weighs heavily on his heart, and to have time away from it all is precious to him.

But the truth remains that Touka knows nothing about Hide’s attraction to Ken, and this has Hide at a crossroads. The guilt sticking to the soles of his feet is his shadow—he cannot run from it, even if he really wants to. And whichever path he chooses, he will regret for the rest of his life.

The waitress returns with a pot of tea. She smiles prettily at them before attending another table. Ken pours himself a cup and the silence between them stretches itself thin.

“I know about her,” Ken says abruptly, shattering the silence and the tension grates further on both of them, turning the air thick as poison. “I know she’s your lover.” But of course he knows. Hide has already told him. Yet the words are like knife wounds to raw skin. “And I know what this is. What I am, to you.”

“Ken, if you think you’re nothing more than an… _affair_ to me, you’re wrong.”

“Then what am I?” Ken asks, his eyes hard and cold as ice. “You’ve been lying to me for almost a year. I knew and I said nothing.”

“Why did you stay,” Hide says quietly, “when you knew that I had her?”

Ken looks up at him and he almost cannot bear the way those grey eyes plead silently for a choice that he has to make, here and now.

“I stayed because I’ve fallen miserably for you, Hide.”

“Ken—”

“My whole life, I’ve learned take what’s in front of me, and not hope for much more. With you, I… Hide, I’ve learned to _hope_ for something I will and can never have. You can trust me when I say that it hurts me more than I’d like to admit.”

“Ken, I’m sorry.” It is as if the world has been pulled from beneath him and he is falling with no way of knowing to where. “I wanted to court you with all the love and care you deserve.”

“Wanted?”

“I still do. I think—I feel—like I’m going mad. I’ve fallen in love with two beautiful people, and no matter what happens, I will end up hurting one or both of you.” Hide wrings his hands, more helpless than he’s ever been in his life. “I know this sounds… revolting, but I know in my heart that I love you both more than I can ever begin to explain in words.”

“Hide,” Ken says softly. “Hide, look at me.”

Hide brings his head up slowly, reluctantly meeting Ken’s eyes with his.

“You already know what, or who, I am. I’m a criminal, a thief. A pirate.”He reaches for Hide’s hands, and covers them with his. “Even if I wanted to—and I do want to—be with you, it wouldn’t last. I knew that, and yet I stayed. I should have left, but I stayed, and I came back, again and again and again.” The hurt in his eyes is genuine, and cuts Hide so deep that he’s certain it must be irreparable. “When I got your letter, I told myself over and over I wouldn’t come today. But before I knew it, I was here, walking like the dead, with only you on my mind.” He laughs bitterly. “If you think you’re going mad, then I’ve no idea what I am for you.”

“Ken, please, listen to me.”

He withdraws his hands from Hide’s. He is smiling, but Hide never knew that a simple smile could hurt so much. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to spend the day with me, but I saw you thinking of her again, and I couldn’t keep still.”

“Ken,” Hide says.

“The tea’s gone cold.” Ken stands up to leave. “Thank you, Hide. I’m sorry.”

“Ken, please. I have only one request.” Hide wants to get on his knees, to beg, but his body is paralyzed and he can’t move an inch. “I… Please don’t go.”

Grey eyes watch him, as if pitying him. “That’s the one thing I can’t do. Goodbye.”

And he goes.

Hide drops his face into his palms and tries desperately not to scream.


	4. false door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: 良 good // pleasing

_Please enter cautiously_

_and feel free to open what is closed._

* * *

It seems fitting that once Hide told Touka the truth about Ken, she has a look stripped so raw that one might think that she’d been struck with a bullet from a person she loved dearly. Had words been the bullet and emotions the barrel of the gun, she might have fallen dead on the floor. But she is a strong woman—only one of the reasons that Hide loves her for—and though she staggers as if hit physically by the impact of the truth, she rights herself and holds her trembling chin up, her eyes mirroring the same hurt that Ken’s had shown one terrible and rain-soaked morning in a café.

“I want to hit you,” she says, her jaw clenching and her breaths heavy yet shaky. “But I won’t. I can’t.”

_I would deserve it_ , Hide doesn’t say. Touka’s fury and grief are all-consuming, and there is no room for anyone’s feelings except hers. It rolls off of her skin in waves that threaten to crush Hide into the earth. He tries to move, to go to her, to put take her hand in apology, but it is a mistake he instantly regrets.

“ _Don’t touch me._ ”

She pushes him away with enough force to bruise and he falls backward, landing hard on the ground. There are angry tears in her eyes as she brings a hand to her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she says, backing away from him. 

“Touka—”

But she’s gone, and he’s left, once again, to only memories and regrets.

* * *

Two months pass and in that time, Souta has begun to undermine Hide’s popularity. Now maintaining his control over the circus and especially on the tents he created the contents of, is becoming more and more of a curse that shackles him. He prides himself on his stamina however, and for the time being, he is able to match up to Souta in terms of power and wit.

He presses the champagne to his lips as he watches Souta speak jovially to a group of aerialists dressed in lace and feathers in varying shades of red and orange. They giggle at all his jokes and fan themselves almost constantly. He remembers what Marude said: _I doubt they’d be so quick to flatter me if I weren’t giving them the gold they need for their dresses and face paint._ As he eyes the aerialists and the way they gravitate toward Souta’s easy smile, he starts to truly understand and fear for the fate of the circus should Souta take control of it.

Hide feels his stomach turn at the thought and decides that he has had enough alcohol for the evening. As he searches for a tray to return his half-finished flute of champagne, he catches the eye of one particularly handsome man. He does not recognize him and though this fills him with suspicion, he feels drawn to this creature that looks more Renaissance sculpture than living, breathing man.

“ _Bonsoir_ ,” the mysterious guest says, inclining his head to Hide with a slight smile that is more reminiscent of a smirk than anything else. 

“ _Bonsoir_ to you as well,” Hide says. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

“Yes, how uncharacteristically rude of me,” the guest chuckles before extending his hand to Hide. “My name is Shuu. You must be the circus-master’s son, Hideyoshi.”

“Hide is alright.”

Shuu arches a perfect eyebrow. “Nickname?” 

“They tend to stick easier to memory,” Hide says, a little breathlessly. It is getting harder and harder for him to remember what he is supposed to be doing. Shuu’s eyes, his face, and his body, if separate, are manageable, but altogether they suggest temptations beyond Hide’s wildest imagination. Perhaps it is the champagne in his blood, but he allows himself to be coaxed into lengthy flirtation and fleeting caresses that leave room for wanting.

Soon the night grows hot, and the antiques room is growing much too crowded for their liking. They slip away from the manor under the cover of darkness. A few guests wandering the garden call out to them, but are too drunk to remember their faces. Hide enjoys the freedom the nighttime cityscape offers. He and Shuu stumble through the labyrinthine streets, kissing and grasping at whatever they can touch of each other. 

Hide loosens his collar and drops his black silk bowtie onto the cobblestones. Shuu’s fingers trace his bare collarbones and he shudders at the touch. Shuu murmurs something in French, and Hide exhales.

“What does that mean?”

Shuu’s eyes meet hisand the intensity within his gaze is enough to inflame Hide’s senses. “I said, _I want to see all of you._ ”

Hide shivers at the words, and yet manages a snarky grin. “Well, what are you waiting for? Take me home, _bel homme._ ”

Shuu’s lips cover his and he is lost, for a moment, in senseless wonder. “I hope you do not regret tempting me,” he says in between hungry kisses. “Shall we?”

They pause for air, and in amidst the sounds of their ragged breathing, Hide whispers, “Yes.”

* * *

Perhaps a month of similar meetings later, Hide stirs in the sheets and pushes himself up. Light streams in from the windows and he feels a familiar ache in his back and hips that reminds him of the previous night with embarrassing clarity. He squints through the morning sunlight and sees Shuu carrying a tray with two cups to bed. Hide catches the strong scent of coffee and accepts his cup from Shuu with a grateful nod.

“You’ve gotten rather tenacious in bed,” Shuu comments. “And you’ve learned to ride with more efficiency.”

The suddenness of it makes Hide choke on his coffee and he takes a moment to bend over and cough until the discomfort passes. Shuu rubs circles into his bare back, laughing.

“Are you usually this technical with everyone you sleep with?” Hide asks, feigning disgust. 

“Only with the ones that improve the fastest.”

“Was the first time really so unsatisfactory,” he says flatly, to which Shuu laughs again and pats him on the head as one would to a child. 

“Of course not.” Shuu drains his cup and gestures for Hide’s. He returns both cups to their tray and gets up from the bed a second time. Hide watches as he gathers up his clothes from the floor and tosses them into a basket to one corner of the room, presumably to wash later. He then goes to the bathroom to wash his face and shave. He does all of this with only his underwear on and Hide is treated to a long and satisfying exhibition of Shuu’s smooth, white legs.

“So,” Shuu says from the bathroom as he pulls his razor over his cream-slathered chin, “who is Ken?”

Hide’s head snaps up so fast that he feels a thunderclap of pain for a few seconds. He winces and waits for the tingling to subside but by then, Shuu has already answered his own question.

“I’ve met the young gymnast—Touka, was it?—and I’ve heard of your past relationship.”

He winces, again, at the word _past_. “Yes, she and I… We were lovers.”

“And this Ken person, I suppose, is the reason why you’ve been out of sorts enough to have sex with a man you just met?”

“He’s not the only reason,” Hide mutters, flushing.

“Oh, I’m certain he’s not. You murmur more than one name in your sleep you know.” Shuu pauses. “Hmm. It’s getting rather hot all of a sudden. I wonder if someone forgot to turn off their heater.” He looks over at Hide, who has bunched up the sheets around him. “Do you feel it?”

“A little,” Hide lies. The source of the heat does not feel the heat, of course. 

“Just when I mention it, it’s cooler now,” Shuu says. “How strange.” He shrugs slightly and shaves off the last of his early morning stubble. He steps out of the bathroom and begins to rummage through his closet for clothes to wear. Hide, with one of the sheets wrapped around his naked body, takes Shuu’s previous spot in front of the mirror and splashes water on his face.

Later, when they are both dressed, they leave the flat and head for the direction of the circus grounds just outside of the city. 

Before Shuu leaves, he says, “I believe this will be the last I see of you.”

Hide stares at him. “What? Why?”

“I can’t continue being your distraction, _mon ami_. It was pleasing… perhaps even _good_ for a while… but I do think that I might be in danger of feelings that I do not have the means to fend off against.”

He feels his whole body going numb as he realizes that the distance that Shuu had put between them as they walked had been entirely intentional. “You’re saying that you’re afraid of falling in love with me. Why did you stay so long, then, if you were going to leave in the end anyway?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as bitter as it tastes in his mouth, but it does, and Shuu gives him what appears to be an irritatingly patronizing look.

“I am not the same as you,” Shuu tells him. “I can only have room for one person in my heart, whereas it would seem that you are capable of loving more than one or two.”

They gaze at each other for a long moment, and then Shuu reaches out to touch Hide’s cheek. Hide allows the caress, and he closes his eyes, trying to burn the feeling to memory, of a love that might have been, but never will be.

He watches Shuu leave, and turns to the circus backlit by the setting sun. He can see the lanterns being lit, and it is a simple matter to close his eyes and sense every peg, every rope, stage prop. He can see, without seeing, every person preparing for a night of performances. He can taste the food, smell the cooking popcorn, even from a mile away. 

Somewhere within those tents is Touka, painting her cheeks for her performance. And somewhere, further away, in the direction of the sun, out in the sea, possibly asleep in his ship, is Ken. Thinking of them both is as painful as taking a hot blade and slowly pushing it into his gut. But he knows that he has only been weak thus far. He needs to make his decision which he has already put off for so long.

The question is, will either of them be willing to make room for Hide _and_ each other in their hearts?

He hopes against hope that they will. It is his last thread to hold onto and if it snaps, then he has to give up on both of them completely.

As Hide approaches the gates of the circus, he sees a figure waiting for him. He squints and when he recognizes who it is, his heart plummets.

“You’re quite early today,” Souta says cheerily.

“They do say the early owl gets the mouse,” Hide replies with equal gaiety. “Just my own spin on the old saying, of course.”

“Of course,” Souta echoes and his unsuppressed glee begins to unnerve Hide. Simply standing so close to each other is charging the air, electrifying it and making the hair on Hide’s body stand on end.

“Any other reason you thought to greet me at the gates this evening?” Hide asks. A completely innocent question, he presumes, will derive the best results.

“Only to deliver a bit of advice.” 

“Advice?”

Hide frowns as Souta leans in with a positively devious smile.

“I find that two lovers are more troublesome than one,” he says, breath hot against Hide’s ear, “especially when both of them love you, quite literally, till death do you part—”

Hide fists the collar of Souta’s dress shirt and violently jerks him forward, seething. “ _What did you do to them?_ ” he snarls.

“Nothing at all, my good man,” Souta says, putting on a façade of innocent confusion and raising both hands as if that can cleanse him of fault. “As I’ve said, I’m only sharing a bit of advice, and you haven’t even let me finish.”

“Talk then,” Hide growls. “Or pact be damned, I’ll turn you to ash.”

Souta throws his head back, laughing. “Alright, alright, yes, my lonely little rabbit. I suggest taking the next train headed north, or the inquisition will be seeing _two_ heads chopped off instead of only one.”

Horror curdles Hide’s blood and he lets Souta fall to the ground with his shirt disheveled and now covered in dirt. He takes a step back as he realizes that Souta’s plans have only just fallen into place. The reason why Ken had been in the circus that night, the reason why Ken hadn’t been recognized and taken custody of even once in all his time in the circus, and the reason now, why Ken had been arrested and put on death row, with Touka hurtling north to save him for Hide’s sake. If Hide leaves now, he will be forced to accede control to Souta.

He watches, with unbridled disgust and dread as Souta gets on his feet with a smile like he’s won, but in truth, he has never been playing the same game.

“Your choice, whore-son?” Souta asks with a sneer.

Hide curses, and the tempest inside him spills over into reality. Plants around him wither, turn into ice and fire. The air coagulates like blood and it all, for a moment stinks of rot.

“I will make sure you regret ever involving them in this,” he says, wrath lacing every word. “I will make you suffer ten times anything they have suffered because of you.”

Souta’s lips quirk upward into an eerie grin. “I’d like to see you try.”


	5. escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 5: ヒデ Hide

_“I would have written you, myself, if I could put down in words everything I want to say to you. A sea of ink would not be enough.”_

_“But you built me dreams instead. And I built you tents you hardly ever see. I have had so much of you around me always and I have been unable to give you anything that you can keep.”_

* * *

It takes over a day to prepare for the trip northbound and Hide is still unsure of whether or not his calculations are precise enough. He usually takes weeks of review before letting his magic seep into the formulae, the scribbles, and the models that he creates. And even then it takes a massive amount of concentration to maintain their functionality. Before, it might have counted as a single point against him in the larger scale of the duel, but now the stakes are higher and one minuscule oversight can cost him the entirety of the circus and all of the lives within.

Everything hinges on a thick ream of paper that he has spent an entire day and night writing on every single sheet. It is this that he entrusts to Marude before leaving.

Marude tries to stop him. Of course he does. It is the riskiest, and possibly the worst move to play. Two lives against the circus, which is, in and of itself, a core of magic strong enough to wreak havoc across continents. It is ludicrous, Marude says to him. And if Hide will just stop to _think_ he might be able to see just how dangerous and idiotic his decision to leave is.

“I can’t leave them to _die_ , Father,” Hide says, his voice fracturing ever so slightly under the weight of the choice he has made. “I’ve hurt and lied and betrayed them far enough.”

“But to risk the world for it?” Marude is angry, but most of his anger has passed by now and all that is left is the wild desperation to understand why his son is risking it all for lovers he can easily replace. “To risk everything we stand for, and die doing it? Hide, if you wanted to take a wife or a husband or even a mistress, I could send for dozens of suitors. Those two… They are not the only ones who long for your attentions.”

Hide breathes, slowly, and chooses his next words with care. “Father,” he says, “I know that this is not only about the circus and me. You’ve made decisions you regret too. And I know that not a day goes by that you don’t think of Uncle Chika. Losing him, you lost a part of yourself, and you know that you could have lost the circus that way. And now you are afraid I’ll make the same mistake.”

Marude says nothing, only searches in Hide’s eyes for an answer that he might never find. 

“I have to go,” Hide continues. “I have to, because it’s only right. It’s the only decision that I won’t regret.”

A pause, half a dozen heartbeats, and a long drawn-out breath. Then Marude sighs. “Alright. You can go.” He stumbles back a step when Hide pounces on him for a hug.

“Thank you,” Hide says. He releases Marude and beams. “Put your trust in me and I’ll return, whole and well.”

“Go,” Marude says quietly, a faint sorrow in his eyes. “And be careful.”

“I will.” And with that, Hide takes his leave, placing the circus in Marude’s hands for the time being.

* * *

He takes the train north up to five platforms before getting off. He brings no luggage and has been wearing the same clothes for the past two days. His exhaustion makes his steps sluggish, but he draws upon anger and worry to fuel his drive. As the train pulls away behind him, he pulls his coat tighter around himself. The sharp wind chill is still something he is not used to, even after all these years. For a few seconds, as the breeze picks up suddenly, he regrets not pulling on an extra layer.

He enters a town with more field than house, and pauses to buy three loaves of bread at a tiny inn. He tears into them so quickly that the innkeeper’s wife pulls her husband aside and asks him if this half-starved boy paid for his bread. After his makeshift meal, he leaves the inn and hurries behind it before pulling out his lucky coin. The king smiles with a conspiratorial eyebrow waggle.

He hopes the bread will provide him with enough energy to survive the journey he has planned. Then, closing his eyes, he wills his body forward in space.

The world folds in on itself around him, as easily as paper. He is the last to go, and the sensation of his entire body and self flattening is never a pleasant one. His body folds like the restof the world did before him. It is impossible to breathe—his lungs are paper thin, and so are the rest of his limbs. He endures, holding his breath for an absurd amount of time.

Then everything unfolds. First his arms, then his legs, his body. Trees surround him on all sides, grass pokes into his trousers and tickle his ankles, and then the world is back, as if it had never vanished. Hide sucks in a breath, then two. There is a weakness in his legs, but it is not unfamiliar. He crouches, then sits for a while on the forest floor to catch his breath and regain his strength before attempting another jump.

This time he lands on his stomach, gasping for air. He flops onto his back and _breathes_. He throws an arm over his eyes and tries not to vomit. He fights the exhaustion and nausea, staggers onto his feet. Using a nearby wall for balance, he walks out of a narrow alleyway onto a dim, lamplit street. With trembling hands he reaches into his pocket for an extra load of bread he brought from home. He forces it down, and clamps his lips shut with his fingers to keep from throwing it back up.

He swallows the last of it, and exhales, half-relieved. The street is, fortunately, devoid of life. He makes his way through it, surrounded by that familiar scent of brine, except this is much colder and harsher than that of his home island.

Local gossip with a few men at a pub tell him all he needs to know: that he is at the right place, at the right time. The garrison he must find lies on a rocky outcropping extending beyond the sandy shoals that border the town on its west side. The pirate’s execution is scheduled for dawn the next day. But didn’t they hear, one of the men adds, there’d been a break-in and a _woman_ had been caught and tried for being the pirate’s accomplice. She’s probably his personal whore, they all agree, much to Hide’s concealed chagrin.

He makes for the garrison.

From a hundred feet away, he can already see the patrols at the gate. He wonders, for a moment, what to do. Then in a brief stroke of genius, he runs his hands over his long overcoat, and watches its threads alter in shape and color. He pulls the new hood over his head and walks as confidently as he can, right up to the gates. His heart pounds in his ears as the guards regard him.

“State your business, Father,” says the guard on the left.

“I’ve come to offer the sacrament of reconciliation to the souls on death row,” Hide says calmly. 

“That’s rather unusual. Confessions are normally given right before execution.”

He swallows. “The parish priest wished me to come earlier. For the poor woman’s sake.”

The guards exchange glances, for a heart-stopping moment they seem as if they are going to turn him in, but instead they unlock the gates and step aside for him to enter. He lets out a sigh of relief when the gates close behind him. 

He continues down the hallway, which stops at a pair of staircases which go both up and down. He chooses the flight that descends. Another guard stands at the foot of the steps, but this one only nods at him respectfully. He moves on, worrying all the while if he is walking too fast or too slow. Then, finally, he reaches the dungeons. Another sigh escapes him.

A long line of barred doors extends before him.

“Father,” moans one of the prisoners, “Father, help me. Tell them I am innocent of my crimes.”

“Early for an emissary of death now, aren’t ye,” spits another.

“All of you shut up, I’m trying to sleep before I die tomorrow.”

Hide freezes.

“Yes, milady,” says a prisoner in mock deference.

He tries not to let his happiness and relief show when he goes to her cell. 

Then Touka is there, lying amongst a scant pile of hay on the moldy stone floor. Her dress is torn and her hands and feet are wounded. She sits up when she sees him at her door. Ken appears at the door beside her. They both gape at him in disbelief as he reaches for their faces and whispers, “Thank God. Thank God, you’re both alright.”

And when they look at each other, they simply have to smile.

“Hide,” Ken says softly. “I didn’t think… I didn’t expect… you would come.”

Touka grins and even her bruised smiling face is so beautiful Hide wants to kiss it. “I told you he would,” she says, her eyes on Hide’s and filled with loving pride. “He’s an idiot like that. Which is why you and I love him.”

Both Hide and Ken blush and stutter, but Touka is the one who gets them back on track.

“We can talk more about this later,” she says. “We need to escape first.” She pauses. “And Kaneki, I don’t want you starting any more ruckus about how you ‘deserve’ this punishment. If you don’t come with us, I’ll personally drag you back.”

Ken sighs. “Yes, ma’am.”

Hide chuckles. “You’ve gotten used to her already?”

“It’s hard not to, when you’ve been stuck in the same cell for half a week.”

Touka elbows him and says, “Alright. What’s the plan?”


	6. beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 6: 生 birth // life
> 
> fml, sorry for the late update :((

_“Do you love them?”_

* * *

Hide takes carefully measured steps along the hallway. Made from stone and cold to the touch, it is lit by an electric lamp once every few meters. He occasionally smooths his faux guard’s uniform—no longer a priest’s robes—nervously, but he is grateful for something—an action or the anxiety over said action—to keep him awake and alert. The constant worry that a guard might notice his strange behavior and arrest him, keeps the exhaustion at bay, but still it remains, waiting at the back of his mind for the opportune moment to consume him and ruin it all.

Every few feet, he runs a hand across the rough stone wall, and feels it grow warm at his touch. He has done this for quite a while now, and thankfully, most of the guard is either asleep or easy to fool. And besides, what is so suspicious about a drowsy guard that needs to keep a hand on the wall to steady himself when he feels his consciousness waning?

After he has done this to four different hallways, he returns to the dungeons, where Touka and Ken have been making straw versions of themselves. He presses a hand to the lock on the door, and says gruffly, “The commander wants to see you both.” The door unlocks all on its own and he opens it. The metal grates against the floor.

He pulls them out with a bit of roughness then mutters an apology when Ken trips on a raised stone in the floor. Touka visibly smothers a laugh but manages to school her features in record time.

That is when the shouts and thundering footsteps begin.

The prisoners who had been either sleeping or watching Hide take Ken and Touka out of their cell, began to wake and wonder what the source of the commotion upstairs is. In the confusion and uproar, they are able to walk out without anyone watching them more intently than is necessary.

“It’s empty,” Ken says, looking around. “What did you do to get their attention?”

“Some flowers, a bit of fire, and an abundance of glass,” Hide replies.

Ken frowns but before he can say anything else, Touka cuts in. “We have to hurry. The guards might come back before we expect them to.”

“Alr—” Hide stops, his face burning. “Touka, where are your _clothes_?” 

She raises her eyebrows and cross her arms across her sleeveless undershirt. She is wearing nothing else except that and her beige drawers. Her feet, ankles, and her calves are bare. Hide can feel himself staring for far too long than normal, and he only tears his gaze away when Ken clears his throat.

“We left the dress over the straw substitutes,” he explains coolly. “Can we move along?”

Hide coughs and runs a hand through his hair. “Er, yes. Right. This way.”

He leads them down the winding halls of stone. Above them, men shout, things shatter, and the lights flicker. It reminds Hide somewhat of his plans to create a tent of horrors in honor of Hallow’s Eve. He had changed his mind eventually, but he wonders if it might be possible to try again, when they return. 

He hears the soldiers just before they round a corner. He grabs Touka’s wrist and throws an arm out to stop Ken. The three of them freeze in their tracks as the footfalls and voices grow louder.

“Open the gates, open them!” one soldier shouts as he leads the rest.

“What about the prisoners, sir?” asks another.

“Leave them! If they’re lucky enough, this will have been a false alarm.”

“Yes, sir!”

The footsteps eventually subside and the three of them release a breath and exchange nervous and yet somewhat relieved glances. From there they pick up their pace, running through the serpentine hallways and careening around corners. They pass under a few archways but no windows. All is dark around them except for patches of light cast by the electric lamps.

They climb up a flight of stairs, two steps at a time. At the top, they pause and let another three soldiers run past. They press their backs against the cold stone and wait until all is relatively quiet again. 

“Are you alright?” Ken asks worriedly.

“I’m fine,” Hide says though he is clearly not. His vision is fading around the edges, and he can barely keep himself upright. Only fear and adrenaline are fueling him now. “This place has only got one entrance, so we have to move quickly.” He struggles to keep from swaying on his feet, and he knows by now that he does not have the energy to change Touka’s and Ken’s clothes. His stomach plummets. “I… I can’t…” he presses a hand to his eyes. “I need a minute…”

“Hide,” Touka says, placing a hand on his arm. Her jaw is clenched and her muscles are tight with tension. The fear is clear in her eyes and he feels a flood of guilt inside him. When Ken moves past them and into the open, Hide’s panic spikes.

“Ken,” he hisses. “What are you doing?”

“Helping us escape,” Ken replies without looking his way. 

When Hide opens his mouth to call him back, Touka abruptly pulls him back and clamps a hand over his mouth. He turns to her with a question in his eyes that begs her to answer, to let him go, because if he doesn’t, Ken will be killed. She says nothing and only shakes her head.

He struggles against Touka’s grip at the sound of two or three soldiers approaching, but her hold is as strong as steel bonds. Ken does not flinch. Not even when the soldiers shout and draw their weapons against him. Instead he stares them down and lets them come to him.

The first is disarmed in a flurry of movement and makes the mistake of staring wide-eyed at where his sword should be. Ken brings the sword pommel down hard on the man’s temple and he falls to a heap on the floor. The other two soldiers hesitate and approach him warily. They circle him, one trying to reach his blind side.

But Ken is armed now, and dangerous. He charges forward, taking them both by surprise. With one smooth arc of his sword, he slices across one man’s thighs. But just as he falls, the other is coming up behind Ken.

Hide forcefully pries Touka’s fingers off of his lips and screams Ken’s name.

The soldier’s sword cuts through the air, aiming for Ken’s neck. He turns and the sound of metal ringing against metal. The two engage, then disengage in a quick back-and-forth exchange. It is straightforward, and it seems as though the soldier did not expect it to go on for as long as it has. His strikes grow more and more relentless but Ken is able to parry them all with ease. 

Then, the soldier attempts a feint. Ken exploits it and gets his sword inside the soldier’s guard, and disarms him with a simple flick of his wrist. The soldier’s sword falls with a loud metallic clatter on the floor and for a moment he gapes at it, then looks back up at Ken. He turns and bolts.

Ken makes to go after the man but Hide stops him. They already have what they need.

They take the men’s clothes, into which Ken and Touka change. Then they run, straight and true, for the only exit in the entire garrison.

There are already men in the courtyard, many of them mounted, hurrying to get out. The acrid smell of smoke and something even stranger than anything they have ever smelled is thick in the air. Hide knows it is not dangerous—only painful to inhale—but of course none of the soldiers know that. The trio blend into the crush of uniformed men struggling to escape without getting stampeded. Hide grabs both Ken and Touka’s hands to keep from getting separated in the chaos.

Once out, they exchange glances and upon silent agreement, they slip away to the back of the garrison unnoticed, and flee into the woods beyond. 

Twigs snap and rocks crunch beneath their feet as they run and skirt around raised tree roots in the darkness of night. Behind them, the voices of the men of the garrison are quickly fading but they stay wary of hoofbeats telltale of pursuit.

Once the sounds of terrified men is overcome by those of a sleeping forest, they slow to a stop and collapse at the foot of an old willow. A tiny stream flows nearby and Hide splashes his face with the water before crawling up to the roots. Weariness overtakes him, swallowing him completely, and he is plunged into the oblivion before he even realizes it.

 

When next he wakes, it is dark, and he wonders if he only slept a few minutes, or through an entire day. He sits up and notices that he has been lain on a bed of leaves. A small fire crackles, now dying to embers. When he looks up, he notices the lightest streaks of morning light in the sky.

“Hide…?” Touka blinks sleepily, propping herself up on her elbows and rubbing her eyes. “Do you feel alright?”

“Much,” he says. “Where’s Ken?”

She sits up as well. “He took second watch last night. He must be around here somewhere. He’ll be back soon.”

Hide nods. “How long was I asleep?”

“Two days.”

He balks. “ _Two days?_ ”

She smiles, amused. “Certainly not as terrifying as two weeks.”

“Don’t remind me. I was still young back then. I couldn’t control myself.”

“That’s what you get for promising a girl all the stars in the sky and taking it so seriously,” Touka laughs. 

“I did manage to get you one, though. Do you still keep it with you?”

“By my bedside every night, twinkling in its little bottle.”

They gaze at each other for a long moment, and just as something begins between them—a sudden thickening of desire—Touka pulls away, her eyes on the ground. The heat turns into cool tension and Hide hopes she is not angry still, but knows that she has every right to be.

“He was terrified,” she says quietly. “When you fell asleep. He thought you were dead.” She pauses. “He blamed himself. He was so angry. And broken. I had to hit him to get him to listen to reason and snap out of his hysterics.” Her smile is tinged with pity, and sadness, but mostly, she is moved. “He really loves you,” she says softly. And on her lips is a silent question.

“I love him,” Hide says truthfully. “But I also love you. If you expect me to choose, I can’t. If I did, I would be lying to both of you.”

She eyes him, then looks back down at the ground, the dirt and grass that spans the physical gap between them. “I… always thought that you loved people in a different way than they did. And I used to think it was wrong, or strange, and I tried to deny it. I tried to think that I could keep you all to myself, and I didn’t want to think about what it meant to have you. I thought there was only one way to love.” She meets his gaze again. “But I think I can learn. If you both would like to teach me how.”

Hide closes his eyes, his chest squeezing so much he has to press a hand to it. The morning sun peeks out over the horizon and casts shafts of light through the low-hanging willow branches and with it he feels hope and happiness burgeoning in his heart. He grins and throws his arm around Touka, and kisses her. She melts into his arms and they smile against each other. Finally, they are together again.

When Ken finally returns, he drops his sword when he sees Hide awake and laughing away with Touka as they wait for him. He approaches cautiously, like a man who has been duped once by a mirage in the desert and is not eager to be fooled again. 

“Ken,” Hide says, smiling warmly. “You’re back.”

And he stumbles into Hide’s arms, his eyes wet with tears. “Hide… Hide, I was so worried… I thought…”

“It’s alright. I’m alright now,” Hide reassures him. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

“No… No, I’m sorry,” Ken says, pushing away to look him in the eye. “I was… I was distraught after I left you that day. I wasn’t thinking. I was betrayed. And I didn’t think—didn’t expect—” He swallows a sob. “I was lost without you.”

Hide’s chest squeezes again, and he pulls Ken into a tight embrace. Then reaching out, he pulls Touka in too. “I’m so sorry I left you both,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “I was confused, and I hurt you in my confusion. I thought I could change things, and protect you, all on my own. But I made the mistake of lying to you.” He pulls away. “You both mean the world and more to me. I love you. And I swear I’ll never leave you again.”

Touka and Ken exchange smiles and the three of them link their hands together. 

“Now,” Hide says, “let’s go home.”


	7. home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: free day
> 
> -
> 
> I am so so sorry this took so long, but the sheer amount of plot this chapter had to have was waaay too much. It's incredibly long, and I do think there are a lot of plot holes that I missed, but I hope I managed to cover everything that was most pertinent to the story. :'D  
> I hope everybody had a wonderful Hide Week this year! Thank you for reading! ^^

_Though I have seen a great deal of the sights, traveled a number of the available paths, there are always corners that remain unexplained, doors that remain unopened._

_... When you think of it that way, isn't it just like magic?_

* * *

Hide does not have the strength to jump with two people alongside him. They will have to take the longer route home—three days on a train and another half day on foot. It is a grueling test of patience and Ken still cannot believe it when Hide tells him that he made the journey in less than an hour to get to them in time. It had been risky, and he might not have woken up from the slumber he had fallen into, but it was a risk he was more than willing to take.

On the second day, he and Ken sit across each other as Touka sleeps with her head on Hide’s shoulder. Hide watches the farmlands and cottages flitting past the window and he can see, from the corner of his eye, that Ken has been watching Touka sleep.

“She slept fitfully in the garrison.” Ken has a grim expression.

Hide looks at him. “I doubt anyone can sleep peacefully in that sort of situation.”

Ken rolls his eyes—something that Hide feels he will start doing more and more often—and nudges him with his shoulder slightly. “I can count on one hand the number of times she said something that didn’t have anything to do with you,” he said smilingly. “You mean the world to her.”

“I hurt her.”

“I know you did. And I know it was all because of me. She knew too, but she still came for me. For you.”

The silence between them is thick, but not unpleasant. Touka sniffs in her sleep and a light scowl paints her features for a few seconds. Hide knows it is not the time to be feeling sentimental, that it is more apt to be reviewing his plans to confront Souta, but his mind insists on presenting him with the most superfluous details in jarring clarity—her hair reflecting the noontime sun, her hands folded on her lap, Ken’s tense posture, his fingers neatly curled over the velveteen-lined seat. Hide acts on impulse, reaching out to cover Ken’s fingers with his.

“She was stronger than I was,” Ken goes on, his voice lowering to a whisper. “She was adamant, but at the same time she… she would doubt sometimes. And I know she feels more than I do, that we didn’t deserve to be saved by you.”

Hide had leaned in close to hear him, and he balks slightly at these words. He opens his mouth to refute them, but Ken shakes his head before he can say anything.

“I’ve told you already and I trust that you know well what it means for me to be who I am,” he says. “But I haven’t told you about myself, and how I came to be this way.”

The train enters a long tunnel driven deep into the heart of a mountain and the compartment turns dark as Ken begins his tale.

“I was born deep in the countryside, on a farm that once belonged to my father. Luckily for us, my early years coincided with a great famine that was sweeping the continent. My father tended to the fields, all the while starving, and made sure my mother and I were both able to eat what we could. His love for us eventually, inevitably, killed him and my mother quickly came to the conclusion that I was a cursed child. She beat me, called me demon spawn, and cursed me while our crops withered away. 

“When she died, I thought maybe I could be optimistic. I fell into the hands of my aunt, and she wasn’t so unlike my sister in what she thought of me. It was like my mother had never died, or like she’d come back through my aunt to remind me that I was worth less than leftovers at the table. Eventually I was able to run away. I joined a group of street children. Nevertheless, none of them were my friends. We couldn’t trust each other and not a night went by without one stealing food from another and a fight resulted in bad injuries, or worse.

“I was twelve years old when I decided I had the balls to steal from a pirate crew. Needless to say, it didn’t turn out to be as easy as I imagined. They had me at knifepoint and I was almost certain that they were going to throw me into the sea with an anchor tied to my ankle.

“But then—and I’m not so sure how this happened—they decide to spare my life.They lower their knives and pistols and swords, and I’m left there wondering why they let me live. Not long later, once we’ve set sail, the captain’s first mate comes up and tells me that I’m to be the newest powder monkey, to replace the other one or two lads that’d deserted ship or died from scurvy.

“It took me at least six years to work my way up the ranks, and by that time, there had been enough mutinies to completely change the men who had been in charge when I was taken. I became second mate, then first, then quartermaster, and when the captain was hanged for killing a seaside town’s mayor and his family, I took over the ship completely.

“I was about as good as any other captain you’ve ever heard of. Pillaging, killing, taking booty and women and as much rum and beer as we could carry… Soon enough, I’d made enemies of both lawful men and criminals alike. I was captain for about three years until my ship and crew were destroyed by the navy. We were all arrested, and sentenced to die.

Ken pauses at this point, and brings a hand to his face. Hide asks him if he’s alright with continuing, because if he is uncomfortable, he does not need to continue—

“No, I’m—I’m alright,” Ken assures him. “I just… I’m fine.” He sucks in a breath, as if to prepare himself for a nasty blow to the stomach. “I abandoned them. At the time, I felt nothing but fear of the noose, the guillotine. I’d seen it snuff the lives of many a fellow pirate, and I’d long given up on making friends or any relationship of the sort… I simply didn’t care. I was terrified for my life. I took the first opportunity to escape, and the moment I stepped outside the prison walls, the most profound sense of guilt consumed me, and I was brought to my knees by the weight of my sin. But in the end, I got up, I walked away, and I never again saw or heard of any of my crew.” He swallowed, hard. “I killed them. I made my choice, and I chose to kill them all.”

There was a terrible silence that grew out from the horrendous weight of Ken’s tragic tale. By no means can Hide tell him that he is innocent of his crimes, but he longs to hold him and take away the pain that he is stricken with. Hide knows, without Ken saying it, that he dreams of that moment, when he was on his knees and grieving his cowardice and cruelty. Wordlessly, he squeezes Ken’s hand, and waits for his trembling to stop.

“I’m… not the man to forgive you,” Hide says slowly, knowing that his words have the ability to either assuage the pain or drive the knife in deeper. “And I refuse to say that you’ve done nothing wrong. I understand now, much more than I could ever have hoped to understand you and the pain that you carry. But I can’t possibly hope to be so arrogant as to claim that I can save you.”

Ken’s expression turns crestfallen, but Hide continues quickly.

“That’s not to say that I don’t care about you and there’s so much— _so much_ —that I wish I could do and could have done,” he says. “But the last thing you should feel as though you deserve, is to die. Not you, not the men you left behind, no one deserves to die.”

Ken is shaking his head, but Hide places both hands on his cheeks. 

“I don’t think I was brave enough to come save you and Touka. I was just terrified of living a life without either of you. And if that isn’t enough of an excuse for you to feel like you deserve to live, then you can think of staying with me as punishment to equal death.”

It takes a minute for Ken to crack a nervous smile. “I could never think of that as a punishment,” he says. 

“I guess I’ll have to keep thinking of something,” Hide says, grinning.

Their lips are a breadth away when the train whistle signals the end of the journey. As it rolls to a slow stop at their station, Ken and Hide exchange shy smiles, in silent recognition of what had come to pass, or almost come to pass. When passengers start filing out the train, Hide nudges Touka awake and she stands up, yawning and passing a hand over her eyes. She squints at Hide then at Ken.

“He’s a terrible kisser when he’s too excited,” she says. “You have to put a hand on his face or on his shoulder, to calm him down a little.”

Hide blinks, awed by the surreality of the moment and by Touka’s faint smile. “Thank you for the, erm, advice,” Ken says haltingly, red to his ears.

“Anytime,” Touka replies. “Shall we be off?”

The lightness of it all fades, replaced by the very real truth of what they are about to face. Hide nods with grim determination, and they leave the compartment and all of the brief solace and blissful ignorance it had given them for a few hours.

* * *

The plan is straightforward, because there is no other way to succeed. The rules of tradition dictate that Hide must face Souta alone and unaided, which Touka and Ken accept with much chagrin. They can only wait and pray that he can finish the duel and give Souta enough reason to fall back or give up or, at worst, die.

He requires a few calming breaths before entering the circus, which appears almost deserted, and almost immediately he senses the imbalance of power. He almost lets out a gasp of relief. Marude is alive. He is still fighting. He is still alive. That is all Hide needs to spur himself onward. He does not know where to find his father, but he knows exactly where to find the source of all the quiet chaos. Despite the seeming silence, Hide can perceive the mayhem lying deep within the magic conduits ingrained into the circus. It is simple enough to know where Souta is—at the clocktower centerpiece.

_This is where it will end_ , he tells himself. _I have to end it here_.

Souta lounges at the foot of the clocktower, as leisurely as can be, and his smile seems—no it _is_ —mocking all that Hide has suffered to be forced into this very moment. Souta’s expression brightens visibly when he sees Hide, not unlike a squirrel spotting berries ripe for easy picking. Hide feels his fingers twitch and he has no idea whether it is because he is nervous or angry or both.

“I thought you might come,” Souta says, walking toward him with a spryness in his step. “Though it would have been _horrifically_ boring if you didn’t make it out of the garrison alive. Fortunately, I’m never wrong.”

“You planned all of this then,” Hide says. “You knew I would be easily swayed by my passions, and you took full advantage of it.”

“Hardly. I could never have predicted that you would choose _both_ instead of one. It was quite a show, that.”

“Ken had nothing to do with any of this.”

Souta beams. “Hasn’t he told you that he was and is a criminal on death row? I only allowed the poor man some respite within the circus to escape from his pursuers, those bad, bad men of the law. How could I have known that you would meet and fall desperately, madly in love? How could I have known without, perhaps, manipulating either of you? A little deception of the mind is child’s play, after all. And to a man broken by grief over his past transgressions? Almost disgustingly easy. Now wouldn’t that make me the most terrible person on earth?” A note of laughter falls from his lips, followed by another and another, until he is laughing near uncontrollably. 

The horror of his suggestion trickles down Hide’s throat, burning his insides like a deadly venom. His determination falters, and he seriously considers, for a few seconds, sprinting back to Ken and performing a cleansing magic and asking him, _do you still feel for me as you used to? Is this real? Do you really, truly love me?_ The desperation is maddening and Hide can feel himself at the edge, only half a step away from falling completely into despair.

But he cannot. He waits until Souta’s laughter subsides, all the while trying to remind himself that Ken is not the sole reason he is here. Ken is but one of many reasons, and Hide knows he must to remember that. To forget is akin to casting aside his father’s sacrifice, Touka’s grief, and the fate of the circus and all that live within its confines. To forget is to create an artifice of truth, a comfortable bubble in which only he and his passions and desires reside.

“You,” Hide says with some difficulty, “are a madman.”

Souta’s smile does not wane. “That’s an awfully flattering compliment,” he says. “Are you certain you do not secretly desire me to be a part of your little harem?”

Fury inflames him, and he is not sure how he is able to wrap his hands around Souta’s throat, but when he is next aware of himself, there he is and there again is Souta’s eerily carefree smile. His fingers press into Souta’s throat, and the corners of his vision are tinged with red. He understands full well that he is angry beyond explanation, but while he is aware, he feels as though he is floating outside of himself, watching the spectacle unfold from a third party perspective.

Yet despite the imminent threat to his life, Souta laughs merrily. He does not sound at all as if he is being choked to death, and before Hide realizes this in full, Souta has melted into a pool of darkness in his hands. Hide steps back, the surprise of the moment briefly diffusing his anger.

“ _I don’t doubt your capability to love and care for those around you_ ,” Souta’s disembodied voice echoes throughout the circus, surrounding Hide in its unearthly tones. “ _In fact, I laud you for it. What was it that the Frenchman told you? That you have space in your heart for many loves, not a singular love? I find it utterly_ fascinating _that you are able to love even one of these plebeian fools._ ”

“Is this how you prefer to fight?” Hide snaps. “You slink around in the dark where no one can see you, and whisper in people’s ears?”

“ _Believe me, I would much prefer to physically flay you alive, but that would hardly be entertaining_ ,” Souta chides him. “ _You think me lazy? Au contraire. I have been working with the utmost patience and singleminded concentration. You could perhaps call me a genius or an artist, I wouldn’t mind. Regardless, I retain some sense of… curiosity._ ”

There is a sound of a sleepwalker’s footsteps, dragging heels across the black and white painted grounds of the circus. When Hide turns, a ball of lead drops in his stomach. “Father?” he whispers. But it is not Marude. It is, but it is not. He is covered in blood, from his hair to his cheeks to his bare hands. Hide wishes with every part of his being that this is only one of Souta’s illusions which will melt away into shadows. But Marude remains very real and very much solid as he walks lethargically, a dullness to his eyes that is heartbreaking to watch.

He is still alive, which is worst of all. He should be dead, but something is keeping him tethered to life, prolonging his suffering. It is cruel, too much so, and it fills Hide yet again with the same rage that brought him close to murder only a minute before. Marude’s mouth opens and closes in mechanical replication of the act of speech, and Souta’s voice spills from it.

“ _Now isn’t this just the most delightful of reunions?_ _Are you not touched to the very depths of your heart? Won’t you thank me for giving you this opportunity?_ ”

_Murderer_ , Hide’s mind rasps as his body reels, grasping at straws to stand his ground and stay his hand. Rage like fire runs in his blood, and he can feel the grief dampening it like the heaviest rainfall. But more than anything he feels colder and more alone than he has ever felt before. 

“ _Hide… My… son_ ,” Not-Marude struggles to move his jaw in unison with the words he speaks. “ _Come… Come here… Let me look at you…_ ”

He is at a loss. His consciousness stands at a precipice and vertigo threatens to have him topple over the edge. He mustn’t, but even he cannot even begin to fathom the pain that has been wrought inside him. Why is he even here in the first place? What is he—no, what did he think he could do here? There is no point, no reason, and thus no purpose to his existence. He falls to his knees at Not-Marude’s feet.

And at that moment, he is more than ready to die.

“Oi, Circusmaster!” 

There is half a second between the crack of stone against bone and the sound of Not-Marude’s body falling to the ground in a heap. Hide blinks and the world comes back into focus as Touka and Ken come running to his side. All panic and the angry urge to demand why they had disobeyed him and come into the circus, vanish when Ken drops to his knees and slaps Hide across the face.

“ _What do you think you’re doing?_ ” Ken all but shrieks, his black hair as wildly in disarray as are the emotions in his grey eyes. His hands clutch Hide by the shoulders.

“He’s right,” Touka says, her face white though not with fear but with sheer shock. Hide can see she is just as distraught as he. “That’s not… he’s not your f-father anymore.” It hurt her not only because Marude had been just as much of a father to her as he had been to Hide, but also because she had lost her true father in a tragic fire. She had always told Hide that he was lucky to have a father like Marude. And now Marude is gone, replaced by a demented puppet that they must now do battle with. 

Hide gets on his feet with Ken’s help and watches as Not-Marude struggles back up, arms and legs moving as though made of nothing but steel bolts and joints. It hurt. It hurt so much to see him this way. But Touka and Ken are right. There will be time to mourn later. 

“The… real body is nearby,” Hide says slowly. 

“Souta’s?” Touka asks.

He nods. “I know I’m breaking more than a few rules, but I hope it wouldn’t be too much to ask for your help?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” she says, grinning. 

He returns her grin and looks at Ken. “And you, Ken?”

Ken looks from Touka, then to Hide. He says, “I only know how to steal and kill, but—”

“That’s more than enough,” Hide says before Not-Marude lets out an inhuman screech. “Both of you, to the clocktower. At the very top, there should be something you can smash to smithereens.”

A wave of energy tears through the earth at them along with Souta’s distorted, raucous laughter. They duck, and jump back onto their feet as one.

“You can’t be more specific than that, can you?” Ken yells over the now increasing barrage of attacks from Not-Marude’s direction. He swipes his cutlass through the air and slices a thick wooden pole in two before it can knock into the side of his head.

“No, unfortunately I never mastered clairvoyant magic,” Hide calls back. “There should be a… a circle! Find it, and you’ll find whatever it is you’re supposed to destroy.”

This time a spray of scalding hot water comes at them but Hide throws up an arm and the water stops just shy of them, suspended in midair for a second. He looks at them. He shouts, “ _Go!_ ”

Touka grabs Ken by the hand and they disappear between black-and-white tent flaps.

Hide drops his arm and the water droplets shower the ground, raising steam. Souta cackles somewhere close.

“ _I never imagined you would make this easier by bringing two of your greatest weaknesses to me on a silver platter_ ,” he says. “ _For all that your father bragged of your strategic mind, you fail to grasp the basics, don’t you?_ ”

Hide smiles as his skin glows a steady amber before suddenly flaring into a golden white bright enough to blind. “I prefer being at a disadvantage,” he says. “Because if and when I win, it would mean that I was not only the stronger man, but the smarter one too.”

“ _We’ll see about that._ ”

The darkness of night and the light of day meet and coalesce almost without any violent collision. Opposites attract, after all. It is like two pens dripping black and gold ink together on a sheet of paper. The colors resist each other, but then cannot help but mix, and then it is a fight for dominance. 

Touka and Ken watch the duel unfold as they dart from tent to tent. Ken has not seen many of these tents before, and he cannot help but be dumbfounded when they dash into one where fish swim through the air and when he lets go of his cutlass for barely a second, it floats and begins to drift to the floor as though truly underwater.

“Many of these he made thinking of you,” Touka says, tugging on his hand. “But many of them are for me too. Someday I’ll show you all of it.”

The promise of a ‘someday’ is strong enough to spur him forward. Touka insists on a winding path that twists and turns, jumping into a tent from time to time, to confuse Souta and keep him off their tracks long enough for them to do what they must.

They reach the clocktower in a matter of minutes. Touka fiddles with the handle for a moment before cursing. “It’s locked!” she exclaims.

“Wait.” Ken pats over his pockets before pulling out two metal pins, one of which is bent and the other straight. He rests one knee on the ground and sets to work picking the lock. It takes a bit longer than usual, but when the door swings open, Touka has a wide-eyed look that has Ken preening a little.

“That was… impressive,” she manages.

“I could teach you,” he says.

Touka sniffs loudly and strides past him. He is far from mollified however, and remains cheery until he hears the first grinding gears and squeals. He unsheathes his cutlass and follows Touka closely. 

When the first of the strange demons melt out of the shadows, she mutters a string of curses and bends down to pick up an old metal gear. Ken steps forward just as the creatures begin to swarm around them. “This is something out of a nightmare,” Ken breathes.

“Clearly you’ve never seen Hide drunk,” Touka replies airily. “Are you going to use that sword, or will I have to?”

Ken fortunately, does not have the time to respond. The creatures hiss and launch themselves at Touka and Ken. He shields her from the brunt of the attack and slashes forward. He is not sure if mere sword strokes can kill creatures made from pure darkness, but where metal cleaves through them, they collapse into puddles of shadow before vanishing. Before long he hacks them a path up the winding stairwell.

The familiar _tick-tock-tick_ rhythmic sound of a watch is here magnified by a thousand and as they hurry up the steps that hug the walls, the sound becomes loud enough to rattle teeth. At the top of the steps, another horde of shadowy creatures assail them but Ken is able, just barely, to keep them at bay.

“Touka!” Ken grounds out between gritted teeth as he battles the darkness incarnate, “you have to find the circle. I’ll push them down the steps.”

She nods wordlessly and climbs up past him. Some of the creatures break away to chase after her but Ken catches them with a dagger he pulls from his boot. She smiles, shaking her head. Warming up to him might be an easier task than she originally thought.

She arrives at the final landing, breathless. With a quick glance around, she is more than a little surprised at how easy it is to find the circle. It is impossible to miss, right at the center of the landing, where a circle of sunlight from the clocktower face settles, almost predictably, at the middle of it. She wonders if this might be any sort of trap. Did Souta perhaps _want_ them to find this place? Is this all a part of an elaborate scheme?

Touka does not know, and she aches for Hide to be here, to tell her what to do and where to go. Not that she does not have a mind of her own, but because she had grown so used to relying upon his advice that she can never face a decision without first wondering what he would do. Things are always easier—and much more fun—when Hide is around.

“Look for something to destroy,” she tells herself. Souta has never tried to conceal himself before. It should be in plain sight. Then she knows.

By the time she is clambering up a ladder and steeling herself for the inevitable sensation of vertigo, she does not realize she is being followed. Not, at least, until she steps out onto the minute hand of the clock as it slants down to just below 9. 

That is when she first hears the low guttural growl.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” she groans, as she beholds the larger-than-life shadow creature preparing to step onto the minute hand. She reaches out to the clock’s eggshell white face to steady herself as she slides her feet up the hand of the clock, to the center where both hands meet. 

Wind in her hair and her heart hammering in her throat, she stretches her other arm out for the smallest glimmer wedged in the center. Her fingers brush against the stone, then the hand shudders violently under her feet and a scream is ripped free from her throat as she falls—

—and lands with one shoulder hooked around the minute hand. The pain that throbs from her armpit at the hard landing is nothing compared to the relief she feels at not plummeting to her death. Unfortunately, the relief is short-lived as she sees the shadow creature slowly inching toward her on the minute hand.

Struggling to pull herself up, she thinks, not unpleasantly, of all the times Hide told her he loved her. She remembers every single one, from the silly notes and games as children, to the interlocked fingers, tentative kisses, shy smiles… She remembers it all as she reaches, with trembling arms, for the black and white stone at the very center of the clock’s face—an ornament that meant virtually nothing, other than that it was the very first thing that Hide had been able to create with his magic for the circus. 

With a loud cry, she dislodges the stone and feels her grip slacken on the minute hand. Using every last bit of her remaining strength, she smashes the stone into the black steel of the hand. It shatters. Her fingers slip.

She wishes she could have told Hide how she felt a little more. She wishes for so many things, but most of all, she wishes for his happiness with Ken for the rest of their lives.

Then the fall stops.

There are two hands wrapped around her arms.

Two pairs of fearful, yet determined eyes. 

One pair of lips spread into a relaxed grin and the other in a smaller, more modest smile.

“On three,” Hide says. “One, two—”

Touka allows herself to be pulled up onto the minute hand with the two men. She does not let go of either of their hands.

“Is it over?” she dares to ask.

“It is,” Hide tells her, and his smile—oh, his _smile_ —is more beautiful than the setting sun. He scratches his head. “Although… I’m not quite sure if I truly won that duel. After all, I broke the rules. There might be… what did Father call it… retribution?”

“Retribution or no, I want _off_ this clocktower right this instant,” Touka says shortly. “I don’t want to risk falling off. Again.”

“I agree,” Ken says.

“I can fly now though,” Hide says with an impish grin.

“Yes, apparently, yet another thing about you that will take me a lifetime to get used to,” Ken retorts.

“Is that a proposal, Mr Kaneki?”

While Ken blushes, Touka elbows them both. “Off. The. Tower. _Now._ ”

They nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

The sky is streaked in varying shades of red, orange, yellow, and pink, when they alight on the battle-scarred ground of the circus. All around them there is silence, and before Touka or Ken are able to ask, Hide says, “The performers and residents will be back soon. They won’t even remember leaving.”

“Where did they go?” Ken asks. “Are they even real people?”

Hide shrugs. “Most of them are. Others… I’m afraid I’d rather not know.” He chuckles. “Well, I do believe that we deserve a bit of a break after all that. Shall we?”

Touka and Ken exchange glances, and they know they are thinking the same thing. Hide’s cheery demeanor cannot fool them anymore.

“We have to make certain Marude has a proper ceremony,” Touka says. 

There is a long, near-suffocating silence. Then Hide says in the most quiet of voices, “We can’t.” He pauses. “No, not that we _can’t_ , but that… I already did. In the duel… I managed to pierce through his heart to render Souta’s control null. Without that magic, his body began to crumble. He returned to himself, just a little, before…”

Touka wraps her arms around him. “I’m so sorry,” she says softly. “I loved him too. It was terrible, I was angry, I… it hurt so much I couldn’t stand it.”

Hide returns the embrace. “It’s alright,” he says. “He said to thank you. He couldn’t wait to see Uncle Chika again, actually. I’m certain they’re three sheets to the wind by now.” When they laugh, it is tearful laughter.

As nightfall arrives, Hide pulls his coin out of his pocket and smiles widely. “Shall we play a game to decide what’s for dinner?”

“A game?” Ken asks, curious.

“Oh, don’t let him start,” Touka sighs, despite the amused expression she wore.

“ _Do_ let me start,” Hide says, eyes glinting. “Alright, you two, heads or tails?”

* * *

_~fin~_

**Author's Note:**

> my second work inspired by "The Night Circus" by Erin Morgenstern. read it, it's incredible.


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